


Crowley's Nightmares

by AriWritesStuff



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Fluffy Ending, I dont know how to tag, M/M, Memories of Falling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriWritesStuff/pseuds/AriWritesStuff
Summary: Crowley recalls the day he fell and the pain that came with it. Luckily, his angel won't let him deal with it alone.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Crowley's Nightmares

_**He was burning. Falling. It hurt. He was scared. He knew he wouldn't die, but the thought terrified him all the same. The ground was getting closer. He tried to open his wings. They had burned to the bone, scorched feathers leaving a tragic trail of embers across the night sky. They seemed to burn right next to the stars, even the ones he himself had created. But now was no time to think about the poems that could be written of this moment. The fire scorched his back, smoke filled his lungs, the ground was right next to his face-**_  
Crowley gasped and suddenly he was awake. Trying to catch his breath as the feeling of plummeting still held onto him. His hands grasped for bedsheets in the dark, confused as to why they were there. It took him a few moments to recall where he was. He was in bed with his angel, in a small cottage they had made themselves. It was years after the Not-Armageddon, and a millennium since he’d Fallen. He was still gasping for air, he realized, around smoke that wasn’t there. After another moment, he decided the best thing to do was to get up. No need to wake Aziraphale with all this nightmare nonsense after all..   
He shakily stood from the bed, making his way in the dark as best he could towards the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help..   
When he got there, he nearly dropped the cup because his hands were still trembling so badly. Wait, had they been shaking this whole time? Nevermind that, just get the water and maybe sit outside. He managed that much, sitting out on the porch. Thankfully, it was midsummer so it wasn’t at all cold. Quite pleasant weather to sit outside at night.   
He sat out in the quiet, alone with his thoughts. Maybe that wasn't the best thing after all.   
His mind drifted right back to the nightmare, right back to the flames and falling. Even as panic started to consume him again, he couldn't seem to stop the thoughts from flooding his mind. He was right back in the sky, that wretched sky that did nothing as he fell. He could see and count every star and remembered crying as he screamed. Screaming in pain, in guilt, in fear, in rage, and in betrayal. But mostly screaming for help. And none had come. Just the deafening silence of air rushing past his ears. He felt like he was choking again as the memory of smoke filled his lungs once more. His back burned from the fire on his wings. Wings that inevitably haven't been able to fly properly since that day. The ground rushed up towards him, and as he hit the sand of an unknown beach glass formed and shattered and formed again from the sheer heat of it all. He was bleeding, covered in scrapes and gashes from his landing. He had stared at his blood as it flushed out whatever ichor he’d had before, flakes of gold overtaken by the new rusty red that terrified him with the threat of mortality. He started to cry again, alone and afraid.  
“Crowley…?”  
Once again he was snapped back to reality. There were tears running down his face that he hadn't noticed before. He hurriedly tried to wipe them away. Not to much avail but maybe it would go unnoticed. He looked over his shoulder to see Aziraphale standing by the door.  
“A-angel, what’re you doing up..?”  
“I would ask the same of you dear boy. You're trembling like a leaf darling, I can see that from here. And you're crying..”  
“M’fine, don't worry.”  
“You most certainly are not. I’m shocked you think you could get away with such a blatant lie.” The angel came and sat next to him, a handkerchief miraculously coming into his hand as he started dabbing Crowley’s cheeks. “And you may want to be careful of that cup in your hand my dear, you’ll shatter it if you hold it much tighter.”  
Surely enough, Crowley found that his hands were in fact too tight on the glass. He loosened his grip. He tried to take a breath to calm himself, but it came out too shaky for his liking.   
“Why did you get up?”  
“Because you weren’t there my dear. And I got worried. And it seems my assumptions were right. Do...you want to talk about it?” His voice was so sweetly concerned that it made Crowley want to cry all over again. But he feared that he wouldn't be able to talk about it without becoming stuck again.  
“N-no, not really. I don’t think I can, rather. I’m sorry..”  
“Don't be, it was a simple question after all, and I won't press for details if you don't want to share them. Now, is there anything else I can do to help you?”  
“I..I don’t know to be honest.”  
“Well, would a hug be alright? I can still feel you shaking a bit.”  
“Yeah, a hug would be nice..”  
In the next instant, Crowley found himself just about pulled into the angel’s lap and wrapped in a gently firm hug. Soft and reassuring. Just right for him really.  
Before he knew it he was crying again, this time in a sort of relief, pressing his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder trying to hide the sobs. Said angel held him through it, murmuring reassurances and rubbing his back. As an instinct, his wings came out as well, wrapping around him protectively like a shield from anything of the world outside. The whole embrace was made to be safe and warm. Just for him.   
After a while, he calmed again, this time into a better state of mind than he had been before.   
“Thank you. I needed that.”  
“Anytime my love.”  
“Oh shoot, I’ve gotten your nightshirt all wet..”  
“Don’t think about it my dear, it's nothing. Now, let's get back to bed before you catch a chill out here, hm?”  
“Angel, it's summertime, I hardly doubt I’ll catch anything.”  
“Well, I just want you back in bed with me.”  
“Oh. Can’t argue with that I guess.”  
“Indeed. Come along now.” Effortlessly, Aziraphale scooped his snakey husband up bridal style and began carrying him back inside.  
“Ngk-! Angel, I’m perfectly capable of walking!”  
“I know that my dear boy.”  
“Put me down!”  
“I don't think I will. I like carrying you like this, you get very cute when you’re flustered.”  
Crowley couldn’t form a coherent response to that, so he blushed and buried his face in the angel’s shoulder again with a sound not unlike a keysmash.   
“...I love you, angel.”  
“I love you too, my dear Crowley.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this.


End file.
